


The Animal Inside

by churkey



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Derek Hale is a Softie, Developing Relationship, Feral Behavior, Feral Derek Hale, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churkey/pseuds/churkey
Summary: “Good evening, Stiles. Always a pleasure,” Peter drawled—how did he even get Stiles' number?—“I feel it is my duty, as your most beloved packmate, to warn you that Derek's gone feral and is heading in your direction. I'm sure you'll be fine.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 42
Kudos: 781





	The Animal Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Um... This didn't quite turn out how I expected and I plan on revisiting this idea later.

Stiles groaned as he answered his phone. He hated being pulled out of research!

“Hello?”

“Good evening, Stiles. Always a pleasure,” Peter drawled—how did he even get Stiles’ number?—“I feel it is my duty, as your most beloved packmate, to warn you that Derek’s gone feral and is heading in your direction. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Before Stiles could say or ask _anything_ Peter hung up and, knowing him, the creepy wolf wouldn’t answer if Stiles called.

The jerk.

All irritation fled once Peter’s words sunk in…

Derek had gone _feral?_ And was heading to _Stiles?_

_Why!?_

Of course, that was the moment the doorbell rang.

* * *

“Stiles?” his dad called out.

Stiles crept down the stairs with some trepidation. While he was about 99% sure it wasn’t Derek—since he’d _never_ used the door and was even less likely to do so while feral—Stiles couldn’t help the deep fear he was suddenly feeling.

It didn’t help that his dad was wearing his stern cop-face, “Son, want to explain to me why this young man is asking to take you out on a date?”

Stiles stumbled because _what?_ He was almost able to see who was at the door but he was completely mystified. As far as he knew, _no one_ wanted to date him. Especially not anyone who’d be so old-fashioned and formal.

His stumble turned into an all-out flail that ended with him faceplanting when he saw that it was _Derek Hale_ …

Wearing a ridiculously cozy-looking sweater with _thumb-holes_. The sweater was a pale lavender that went absurdly well with his skin tone.

Whatever.

That wasn’t the most concerning thing, though…

Because…

 _Because_ …

Derek was _clean-shaven_. No beard. No stubble. _Nothing_. Heck, there wasn’t even a _shadow_ of his rugged and manly beard.

If it weren’t for his wholly distinctive eyes, Stiles wouldn’t even _recognize_ the wolf in front of him.

All of which explained why his dad was only looking stern, rather than wrathful—Stiles had zero doubt his dad would _not_ approve of Derek Hale asking to take Stiles out.

(Okay, he _knew_ that his dad didn’t approve of Derek in general.)

So.

Except that Derek was bashfully smiling at him and blushing lightly and looking so _adorable_ that Stiles kinda wanted to _die_.

“Hi, Stiles,” Derek said with a dorky wave.

“Um, hi! Hello… Miguel. How nice to see you! At my door. Asking my dad if you can take me out. Shouldn’t you be asking _me_ that?” Stiles’ thoughts were scattered everywhere and he was barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth.

“You’ve never mentioned a Miguel,” his dad looked—rightfully—suspicious.

“Um, well. You didn’t believe that one time I tried to come out so…” On a different topic, Stiles might’ve felt bad about throwing his dad’s words in his face like this, but he’d been a little hurt.

His dad’s face softened, “I’m sorry, kiddo. Why don’t you get changed while I have a chat with your gentleman caller?”

People sometimes wondered why Stiles was such a sarcastic asshole. He always wanted to point to his dad because… yeah.

He can only blame the shock of seeing Derek dressed like some dweeb for the mechanical way he changed into something nicer, combed his hair, and stumbled back down the stairs— _without_ sending an emergency text to the pack.

Mostly because he was pretty sure Derek and Peter were playing some kind of joke on him. Why else would Peter call and claim Derek was feral? Only for him to show up looking like the guy who lived next door?

He’d play along.

_For now._

* * *

Stiles sort of expected dinner to be awkward. Or for Derek to crack (the lavender _must_ be giving him hives).

It wasn’t. It was, in fact, _awesome_.

Derek was all sweet and charming and full of sunshine smiles.

Stiles was sure he’d _never_ been so creeped out by Derek.

_Never._

“So… Derek. What’s, um, up with the new look and attitude?” Stiles can’t help but blurt out.

Derek’s face goes a little serious, “I’m tired of being lonely. Sometimes I need some good conversation and better company,” the asshole actually _winks_ at Stiles, “Derek can be, as you like to say, a bit of a sourwolf.”

Stiles’ mind instantly latches onto the fact that Derek just spoke about himself in the third person.

“Derek can be a sourwolf but not you?” Stiles challenges, pushing—because that’s who he is.

“Well, no. I suppose it is me who can be a sourwolf but I can also be this. But that’s a boring topic. What did you think of the latest Marvel movie?”

Stiles lets it go— _for now_ —because he hates to say it but he’s enjoying this time with ‘Derek’, even if it’s some kind of alt-universe bizarro Derek.

* * *

When he gets home he dives into research…

Only to get distracted by Derek’s comment about being lonely. Since returning to Beacon Hills, without Cora and no longer an alpha, Stiles isn’t surprised that Derek doesn’t have much company.

It wasn’t like they hung out—or even liked each other—before and now that things are fairly calm… Stiles realizes that before their—god, he can’t bring himself to call it a _date_ —he hadn’t seen Derek in at least a month. Maybe longer.

While Stiles can’t say he likes Derek, they’ve saved each other’s lives enough that Stiles has _some_ level of emotional attachment to the big guy. Plus, it’s hard—when you know Derek’s past—not to think the wolf could do with some TLC. It’s just… until now, that had never seen like something Derek would welcome.

Especially not from Stiles.

He’s not exactly the most comforting person. In fact, Stiles is willing to admit that he’s kind of a sarcastic asshole.

But if Derek gets lonely and wants conversation and company… this is something Stiles can do. If nothing else, talking is one thing he truly excels at.

This is, of course, supposing that Derek isn’t trying to lure Stiles into some sort of trap with kindness and sunshine smiles.

(He can’t help but think of Steven Universe… “It’s a trap! An adorable trap!”)

* * *

Stiles tumbled into the loft and then his brain crashed so hard he just flopped over and fell on his face.

This time Derek was wearing a sweater vest, khakis, and humming while he cleaned the loft. Wait, was that _a pastel pink polo shirt?_ The sweater vest was _argyle_.

“Hello, Stiles! Welcome!” Derek solicitously said as he hurried over and helped Stiles get up, “Gosh, I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Stiles was still speechless and this… _look_ Derek was giving him wasn’t helping. It was so _wide-eyed_ and _earnest_. He coughed, “I’m fine, it’s cool. Everything’s cool.”

“Oh, goody. You sound parched! Would you like some lemonade? It’s freshly squeezed,” Derek beamed proudly, apparently freshly squeezed lemonade was a real accomplishment. Or something.

Stiles still couldn’t process anything that was happening, so he didn’t resist or protest as Derek pressed him into a couch that he hadn’t had _yesterday_ before bustling off to get Stiles _lemonade_.

A cold glass was pressed into his hand and he mechanically took a sip, “Holy shit! This is _good!_ ”

Derek pouted, “You don’t have to sound so surprised. I’m a good cook!”

“Derek. _Derek,_ ” Stiles urgently started, “I have _never_ seen you cook. I don’t even think I’ve seen you _eat_. I was pretty sure that rage fueled you for the first six months we knew each other.”

“You’re so funny, Stiles. This is why I like you so much. Wow! I just had the _best_ idea _ever_ ,” Derek said with a wide smile, “I’ll cook you dinner tonight! Everyone _raves_ about my butternut squash risotto. You’ll _love_ it. I promise.”

Derek _tried_ to look solemn as he vowed to wow Stiles with his cooking but his eyes were _twinkling_ and Stiles could see the hint of a dimple. When did Derek acquire dimples? Why was he ruining Stiles’ entire _life_ with that wide, beaming smile?

_WHO WAS THIS PERSON!?_

Because this? Was not Derek. Could _not_ be Derek.

(And who, _exactly_ , was raving about Derek’s risotto???)

“Um… sure. That sounds great,” Stiles said, “Um… if we’re going to have a fancy dinner, maybe I should go home and change? Yeah. I should definitely go home and change.”

“Risotto isn’t fancy, silly. And you always look handsome. That plaid shirt really shows off the breadth of your shoulders, you know? And the colour goes well with your eyes,” Derek brushed a hand over Stiles’ shoulders, trailing down his arm, before clasping Stiles’ hand. Derek was looking dreamily into Stiles’ eyes and it was _freaking_ him the fuck out.

(Stiles had maybe dreamed about stuff like this. Well, okay, it was more being shoved into a wall and aggressively getting kissed… in any case, there definitely wasn’t any argyle or pastels. Although… this nerdy look was kinda doing it for Stiles so maybe he simply lacked imagination.)

“Still… if you’re going to all that trouble. Maybe we should invite the pack too?” Stiles suggested.

“I suppose… I was hoping it’d be just the two of us,” Derek waggled his eyebrows.

Stiles swallowed and croaked, “It’s been a while since we all sat down and ate a nice meal together. I’m sure they miss you.”

(They had _never_ eaten a ‘nice’ meal together. Like… _ever_.)

“Okay,” Derek nodded, “Anything you want, of course.”

Stiles awkwardly waved and fled.

* * *

Stiles was… surprised. He was pretty sure the pack and _never_ assembled this quickly before. Not even when people were in imminent danger of _dying_. Then again, the situation was pretty dire.

“So. We have until dinner to figure out how to handle this situation. Derek said he’s making his famous butternut squash risotto,” Stiles told the pack.

“I haven’t had a good risotto in ages,” Lydia is clearly intrigued.

Isaac whispered, “What’s risotto?”

“Fancy rice, you pleb,” Jackson sneered.

“How is Derek making dinner a pack emergency?” Erica demanded.

“Guys. This is _serious_. I walked into the _decorated_ loft and Derek was wearing a _sweater vest_. He smiled and served me some truly awesome freshly squeezed lemonade,” Stiles flailed to emphasize his point.

Everyone’s eyes went round.

* * *

The pack is filled with cowards, Stiles would like the world to note.

See… they all decided to go to Derek’s loft as a group. As a _pack_. You know? Support each other and all that stuff. Except… they ended up being no help _at all._

Of course, it’s _Derek’s_ fault.

What happened was: they knocked—for some reason Derek hadn’t opened the door like he normally did when he heard them coming—and Derek opened the door.

(Apparently, he’d taken Stiles’ decision to go home and change as an inducement to do the same.)

So he opened the door…

Who was wearing a bright green dress shirt and slacks—Stiles hadn’t even known what slacks _were_ until that moment—with _suspenders_ and a goddamn _bowtie_.

_A bowtie!_

_Derek Hale was wearing suspenders and a bowtie!_

He looked like some kind of 90’s movie nerd about to get a makeover.

Stiles actually heard Erica whimper in fear.

“Hi! It’s so great to see all of you,” Derek enthused with a wide smile, “Stiles was right, it really has been so long since we shared a nice dinner.”

Isaac whispered, “Did you jerks have a nice dinner without me?”

“No,” Boyd didn’t bother whispering.

It took some nudging on Stiles’ part but he eventually got the pack into the loft, where Lydia proceeded to make surprised and approving noises at Derek’s decorating choices. That had Jackson nervously shuffling around because Lydia almost _never_ approved of other people’s decorating choices.

Dinner was… awkward.

The pack all moved their chairs and squished themselves as far as they could from Derek, leaving Stiles sitting next to Derek—the seat Derek said was ‘reserved’ for Stiles.

Derek continued to be strange and blithely acted like everything was ‘normal’, not commenting on the huddled pack, just making pleasant conversation. And Stiles wasn’t even being sarcastic. It really was _pleasant_ conversation. He asked Stiles about his day, listened to him ramble without growling, asked follow-up questions, talked about his day, and so on.

If not for the huddling and whispering pack members, the unreality of it all would’ve had Stiles wondering if he’d crossed into an alternate dimension.

Eventually dinner ended and they all fled.

(Although, they did rave about Derek’s butternut squash risotto…)

* * *

It irritated Stiles that he couldn’t track Peter down. The only clue he had about Derek’s odd behaviour was that he’d gone feral.

Except that didn’t make any _sense_.

Stiles would’ve expected more growling or whatever if Derek had gone feral, not _bowties_.

Wait… unless Derek had _always_ been feral and now he wasn’t? It would explain the bad attitude and growling.

Except not really.

Nothing made sense in a world where Derek smiled like sunshine.

 _Nothing_.

* * *

After a few days of fruitlessly searching for answers—during which the pack endlessly pestered him about whether or not he’d fixed Derek—Stiles decided that the only thing left was to… _talk_ to Derek.

Something he’d been avoiding.

So it was with great trepidation that he knocked on the loft’s door.

The door jerked open and Derek growled, “What.”

He’s wearing a black henley with black jeans. He has a few days worth of stubble and it’s the most wonderful thing Stiles has ever seen. He practically slumps in relief.

“Oh, thank _god_. I don’t know what was wrong with you or how you got better but I’m so glad that the normal you is back,” Stiles babbled out.

Derek eyed him suspiciously and walked into the apartment, leaving the door open in invitation but not, of course, actually _inviting_ Stiles in. It’s such an _asshole_ thing to do that it has Stiles smiling widely.

“Okay… so what happened? Why were you being so _weird?_ ” Stiles demanded.

Derek doesn’t say anything, just looked gloomily out of the window.

“While I’m super grateful you’re back to your usual sourwolf-self, can we skip the whole part where I poke and prod you into sharing? Because I was really worried, dude,” Stiles will beg if he has to.

“Why?” Derek said it so softly Stiles barely heard it.

“What, why?” He wondered, confused.

Derek huffed out a sigh, “Why are you grateful? Why were you worried?”

Stiles replays the conversation in his head, remembering what he’d said, “Because while bizarro-Derek seemed to like me, he also really freaked me out. Honestly? Before bizarro-Derek happened, I would’ve said I didn’t like you. That you were a grumpy asshole who needed to lighten up. Then I met BD—that’s bizarro-Derek for short—and I realized that… I _do_ like you. Probably because I’m kind of an asshole myself. More importantly… I trust you, big guy. These days my life is filled with far more danger than I’m comfortable with and part of what gets me through is knowing that you’re here. That, if something happens, you’ll be there to help. BD was a nerd and I doubt he could fight a bunny and win. I worried because it turns out that I kinda care about you.”

Shit. Stiles hadn’t meant to say all of that. He feels like he might’ve understated the level of concern he was feeling. Hopes Derek doesn’t notice.

“Peter told me that he warned you,” Derek said, thankfully ignoring Stiles’ emotional dump.

“Well… he told me that you’d gone feral and was heading for me. But that doesn’t make sense. You didn’t seem feral. And if you were, why go to me?”

Derek finally turned to face Stiles, there’s something in his eyes…

“I was. Feral,” Derek gives a little shrug like he’s explained everything.

“Wha– _How?_ ”

“BD as you call him… he’s my inner human,” Derek eventually gritted out.

Stiles’ brain did a jump-skip thing, “Your inner _human?_ ”

Derek exploded, “Yes! My inner human. Fuck. My inner human is a romantic nerd and I repressed the fuck out of him— _myself_ —because his foolish, romantic notions got my family murdered. You can stop rubbing my nose in it.”

Stiles just stared, gobsmacked.

“Scott and the others talk about having an inner wolf–”

“That’s because they’re bitten,” Derek cuts in, “Born wolves are wolves first, human second. We have inner humans.”

“Right. Okay. So you went feral and because your inner human is a romantic nerd, you wore bowties and came after me…” Stiles trailed off because there has to be something wrong with what he just said.

“It’s okay, Stiles. I know you don’t feel the same way,” Derek turned away to look out the window again.

“Feel the same… wait. _Wait_. You’re saying your inner-human likes me? But you don’t like me? This doesn’t make any sense!” Stiles insisted.

“I do. Like you. But you don’t like me,” Derek told the window but Stiles can see that Derek’s really talking to Stiles’ reflection.

“I thought I just said that I liked you?” Stiles is so _confused_.

“Not romantically. It was nice to hear, though,” Derek sighed a little dreamily and the tone of his voice sounds more like BD, like maybe Derek going feral means he hasn’t been able to fully repress his inner-human yet.

“I could,” Stiles watched as Derek spun to look at him, “We’re already past the hard part,” Stiles smiled at the confused scrunch of Derek’s beautifully expressive eyebrows, “Trust, sourwolf. Building trust is the hard part and you have mine. And while I wouldn’t mind if your inner-human showed a little more, the entire time I was with BD, I trying to get _you_ back. So. Yeah. I could like you. Romantically. Woo me sourwolf-style and we can find out together.”

And…

The most amazing thing happened.

Derek smiled.

_Derek smiled._

Not BD but _Derek_. So, no, it’s not a wide sunshine smile. It’s a small, barely-there quirk of his lips.

It made Stiles’ breath catch because _he’d_ done that. Put that smile on _Derek’s_ face.

Yeah, Stiles thought, the hard part is over.

Falling in love with Derek will be the easiest thing he ever does.


End file.
